The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) (27 page)

Chapter 22

It didn't take long to find the lime green ranch house with the red tiled roof once
I turned on Spruce. Somehow I'd known it would stand out like a sore thumb, and it
did. I parked my Jeep in front of the house and tried to think of some way to approach
this matter. I really hadn't given it much thought on my way to Leavenworth. As usual,
I was being more impulsive than judicious. Exhibiting deep, sound judgment was not
really one of my inherent traits.

I decided to just wing it as I approached the front door. I asked the older woman
who answered the door if Caleb was in residence and she nodded.

"Just a sec," she said, leaving with the door still wide open.

When Caleb came to the door with a puzzled look on his face, I paused, dumbstruck.
I was staring at the most magnificent human being I had ever seen. This Caleb guy
was a handsome sight for sore eyes. He had a body to die for with a face to match.
His eyes were almost turquoise, and he had a Caribbean-cruise type tan that he couldn't
come by naturally in Salt Lake City in the middle of the winter. Every dark hair on
his perfectly shaped head was in place while he waited for me to speak. It took me
a moment, however, because I was calculating the difference in our ages and deciding
he was young enough to be my son.

"Hello Caleb, I'm Estelle Brady, a reporter with the
Leavenworth Times.
I'm writing an article about the untimely death of your former father-in-law, Horatio
Prescott. May I speak with you a minute?"

If Caleb was curious about how I knew Horatio was his former father-in-law or that
he was staying at his parent's house in Leavenworth, he didn't show it. I guess one
couldn't expect an exquisite body like that to have an ounce of sense.

"Well, no, Ms. Brady, I'm really kind of busy right now," he said. "I've got to head
to the airport in less than hour." As Caleb made a move to close the door in my face,
I stuck my foot inside and pushed the door open again. As I stepped around him into
the hallway I said, "Trust me, this will only take a few minutes of your time, and
then I'll be on my way. And please call me Evelyn."

"I thought you said your name was Estelle."

"Uh-oh, did I s-s-say Estelle?" I said, stuttering as I often did when I lied. "I'm
really s-s-sorry, I meant Evelyn. My full name is Estelle Evelyn Brady, but most people
call me Evelyn," I explained. Good Lord, I had to get this lying stuff down a little
better or stop doing it before it got me into deep doo-doo.

"Yeah, okay, Evelyn it is then. What do you need to know?" he asked. "When did Horatio
die? What happened to him? Heart attack? Cancer?"

Caleb seemed sincerely surprised at the news of the man's death. If he was lying,
he was one hell of an actor.

"He was murdered, actually, several nights ago in Rockdale. He was staying at the
Alexandria Inn, there to attend a ceremony in his honor. He was to be inducted as
the new president of the Rockdale Historical Society," I explained.

"I'm not surprised," Caleb said, dryly. "He always was a snooty son of a bitch. And
a real bastard."

I quickly checked his shoe size, wondering why everybody I met considered Horatio
Prescott a real bastard. Did this man have absolutely no friends at all?

"So who shot him?" he asked.

I almost wet myself, thinking for a second that I had just solved the case. I had
not mentioned the cause of death to this point, other than that it was a homicide.
Horatio could have been poisoned, as he nearly was, or strangled. He could have been
stabbed through the heart with an icicle for that matter. How did Caleb know immediately
the man was shot?

"Who said he was shot?" I asked.

"I guess I just assumed that," he answered. "If he wasn't shot, then how was he killed?"

"Well, okay, he was shot. Just seemed odd to me you already knew how he was killed."

"Wait a minute, sister!" Caleb had picked up on my inference. "Shooting was just the
first and most obvious thing that came to mind. I truly had no idea the man was recently
murdered, or even if he was still alive. True, I had no use for the jerk at all, but
that part of my life is over. I've moved on and I've never given Prescott or his daughter
a second thought. I hate to hear he was murdered, but then again, I am not all that
sorry to hear he's gone. He was a self-absorbed, self-serving man, with no regard
for anybody but himself."

"Can I quote that?" I asked, rather stupidly, suddenly remembering I was there to
get information for a newspaper piece. "For my article, you know."

"No, of course not. This conversation is strictly private, Evelyn. I want no part
of your article."

That's good, I thought. I wasn't even carrying a pen or pad of paper had he agreed
to let me quote him. "Okay, well you do have a confirmable alibi for the night in
question, I assume."

"As a matter of fact I do, not that it's any of your business, Ms. Brady. I was at
a party all evening, with seven or eight of my former classmates. After the party
at Tuna's Bar and Grill in Tonganoxie, we all went to Michael Zarda's house and crashed
for the night. I'm sure any or all of them would be happy to confirm my whereabouts,"
Caleb answered smugly. "I had nothing to do with his death and have a rock solid alibi
to back me up!"

Seven or eight witnesses would make for a very solid alibi, I realized. Victoria had
been barking up the wrong tree, I was sure. I apologized for the intrusion and headed
straight back to the Sands Motel.

* * *

"So, you see, Veronica, I don't see how Caleb could have been involved in your father's
death," I said. I didn't mention that Caleb had assured me he never gave Veronica
or her father a second thought after moving on with his life following their divorce.
She'd had enough heartache in her life so far.

"That's a relief," she said, even though she didn't look all that happy with the news.
I think she liked the idea of Caleb spending the rest of his days behind bars, out
of spite, if nothing else. I wanted to tell her I approved of her taste in men but
feared it would be like rubbing salt in a fresh wound.

"Caleb seems like a decent enough man, and he told me to extend his condolences to
you on the loss of your father."

Veronica shrugged with indifference and thanked me for tracking down Caleb and questioning
him. I told her I was glad to be of assistance and then asked her if she would like
to join us at the inn for lunch. "I imagine Stone's housekeeper Crystal will have
lunch ready shortly. In fact, I need to get back shortly to help out."

"Thanks, but no. I'm going out to eat supper tonight with a very nice Rockdale detective
I have known since high school," she said, with a giddy lilt to her voice.

I was pleased to see she was looking forward to her date with Detective Johnston,
but not surprised she had turned down my offer for lunch. I couldn't imagine her eating
two meals in the very same day and maintaining that skeletal frame of hers.

Chapter 23

After detailing my visits with Veronica and Caleb to Stone, I decided to join Crystal
in the kitchen. I had noticed that all the guests were lounging around in the living
room and parlor, and at least half of them were sound asleep. I was careful not to
wake them. They were much easier to keep satisfied if they were asleep.

After getting to know them all a little better, I couldn't truly imagine any of them
putting a slug into the back of another person's head. I knew it was still just the
early stages of the murder investigation, but I was beginning to wonder if all the
questions would ever be answered. It seemed as if everyone I spoke with had a motive,
but no one was actually guilty of the crime.

Stone and I might have to just sit back and let the future unfold and see if any suspects
floated to the surface. We had no investigative training, other than whatever Stone
had picked up in his services as a reserve police officer in Myrtle Beach. We were
basically just two inquisitive people with an interest in the outcome of the murder
investigation because it occurred at the Alexandria Inn.

I shook my head as if to clear my mind and told myself I had to put the murder on
the back burner for a spell and get to work in the kitchen. I couldn't dump the entire
responsibility of taking care of our guests on Crystal. She'd been putting in enough
hours as it was.

I'd wanted to serve lemonade with lunch but had forgotten to take the canisters out
of the freezer. They were frozen as solid as an anvil, but I couldn't put them in
the microwave because they had tin cylinders on each end. I decided to stick them
in the oven, crank up the temperature to near broil, and let the lemonade begin to
thaw out while I sliced some tomatoes and shredded some lettuce for the roast beef
sandwiches.

Crystal was sitting at the table humming a popular jingle from a television commercial
and stirring a big bowl of potato salad. I sat down beside her with a loud sigh. She
laughed when I asked, "Didn't these people just finish breakfast a half hour ago?"

"It sure seems like it. I started peeling potatoes for their lunch just two minutes
after I finished cleaning up after their breakfast. But, keep in mind, Lexie, they're
all leaving just as soon as we can get them fed so let's serve lunch as early as we
can. The streets are nearly dry already."

I finished shredding the lettuce and began slicing tomatoes, keeping in mind the lemonade
would have to come out of the oven soon, before the heat caused too much pressure
to build up inside the containers. I could add warm water to the frozen concentrate
once it had thawed enough to slide out of the canisters. And then add ice to cool
down the lemonade for drinking.

Crystal was dicing some pickles into the potato salad, and we chatted about inconsequential
things as we worked companionably side-by-side. I'd just about finished slicing the
final tomato when the paring knife slipped out of my hand and clattered to rest on
the floor beneath the table. I scooted my chair back and ducked my head under the
tablecloth to reach for the knife.

Before I knew it, I found myself staring at Crystal's feet, clad only in white cotton
socks. She had slipped off her loafers as she worked at the table. Why had I never
noticed before how badly her right foot was deformed? Was it because I'd never seen
her without her shoes on? The entire right half of the upper part of the foot was
missing.

"Oh, gosh, Crystal," I said, as I sat upright once again. Before I could think about
the intrusiveness of my question, I asked, "Whatever happened to your foot? You poor
little thing. Was it an accident of some kind?"

"Yes, it was an accident. My own stupid fault, really. I slid on some wet grass one
day as I was mowing the yard, and three of my toes were severed when my foot made
contact with the mower blade. They were unable to reattach the severed toes."

"Oh, for gracious sakes! How horrible for you, Crystal. I'm so sorry. No one would
ever know by just watching you walk, though. You're more graceful than I am by a long
shot."

"Thanks. It's been several years now. I seldom think about it anymore. I had to go
through quite a bit of physical therapy following the accident. Once I was able to
walk without limping, I wasn't nearly as self-conscious about it. I barely think about
it these days."